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Izumi Ito/Storyline
Chapter 1 “To protect and serve my people. That’s my nindo. My ninja way.” - “So it’s settled, then? The preparations are complete?” “Yes. I leave today.” “Well… Good luck.” “Thank you.” The stale conversation fades away in the wind, like the one rocking the small hut resting on its garden of stone. A silence falls over the two participants until the taller one raises off her laurels from the grey cushion and disappears through the sliding wooden door in silence. Her counterpart is left with two cups of tea quickly losing their heat to the open air. She is left in quiet reverence as the sound of footsteps are drowned out by the wind. “Be safe, Izumi,” she whispers quietly as she pulls her pink kimono tighter around her, slowly sipping her rapidly cooling beverage. Though grateful for the drink and kind words, Izumi knew she couldn’t dilly-dally much longer. It was a matter of professionalism, really, as the young girl was on business. The only person she took orders from, the leader of her village, the Raikage, has just given her a mission of the utmost importance. Now as Izumi leaves her friend’s small rural house she must meet the assistant of the Raikage for further instructions on her mission. The words from the old man still rang fresh in the young girl’s mind. “You must reach the border by sundown,” he told her, “where you will meet an emissary from our allies.” That was all the tanned leader of the village told her before retreating back to other business. “Allies” could mean anything in a time where the five great nations were coming together to form the Great Shinobi Alliance. The instructions were curt but full of information. For a member of the ANBU, the black ops of the shinobi, Izumi knew orders were orders and no matter how abstract she would follow them to the T. Words meant power in the ninja world and those that fell on the wrong ears could lead to devastating consequences. Izumi was expected to know her place without having been told. The time, the location, all minute details were hers to decipher on her own. The fishnet-clad girl was left to figure out her mission on her own, much as she left the Raikage’s office without indignation at his vague orders. As she walks the winding path back to the Village Hidden in the Clouds, Izumi’s soft steps disturb the pebbles lining the way back home, crunching quietly underneath her feet. The cloth bound to her sandals brushes her skin softly the bow bobbing gently. Izumi fastens her multicolored mask back onto her face as she approaches town. She can no longer push it to the side as her identity as a member of ANBU must remain hidden even in her own village. The sounds of a town buzzing with vibrancy quickly replace the dull silence that left Izumi’s ears ringing. The hustle and bustle of active troops gives off a steady hum of noise and warmth. Soon the young girl is surrounded by members of the Five Great Shinobi Countries on all sides. Soldiers donned in grey, red, and blue uniforms make preparations in quiet harmony, all wearing identical headbands to signify their acceptance in unity. Able-bodied men hoist and heft heavy crates in and out of hastily pitched tents while commanders bark orders to the soldiers. Izumi’s hand drifts to the headband around her waist self-consciously as she sees the dozens of unified ninja standing among her. As a member of the black ops, she isn’t required – discouraged, even – to wear her designated forehead protector on her body. The enemies she fought would revel in glee upon discovering her home village, what meant most to her. But Izumi was as stubborn as an ox, and as she wandered through the military camp, she fastens her headband tighter around her. Amongst the busy chatter of the camp, Izumi makes her way past low buildings and occupied soldiers to her destination. The assistant of the Raikage was waiting for her, and Izumi would not keep her waiting. With a leap, the young girl began weaving her way in and out of the crowd of bustling shinobi, light steps bounding her forward. Suddenly the world falls away beneath her feet as a gratuitous jump propels her toward the ragged face of a mountainside. Izumi’s hand glows blue with energy as she latches on tightly, leaning backwards. Above her ringing the tower of rock is a circular building etched into the earth and made of clear glass. On top of these structures are flat roofs confined by fences. This unique style is mimicked on every mountain for meters across, and together compose of the Village Hidden in the Clouds in their entirety. Looking back behind her, Izumi watched the swarm of soldiers shrink in size as another hand clings onto the mountainside and she begins to climb. Without effort the young girl reaches the summit of the ridge she was scaling, hanging off the side by gluing herself to the rock wall with the help of chakra. In the still, dry air, the sun baking her skin, Izumi shelters her eyes from the light and gazes up at the colossal glass building that sits at the middle of the village. Inside lies the Raikage’s office, her destination. Her skin glows with warmth as an arid wind picks up. Catching a breath in her chest, Izumi plants her feet square on the rocky cliff before bending at the knees and rocketing off the side leaving a miniature crater behind in her wake, hurtling towards another cliff. Before the moment of impact she twists in midair and lands feet first on the rock, using the momentum of the jump to bounce from mountain to mountain and speed through the craggy village shinobi-style. Distance means nothing to the girl as she sails through the bluffs of Kumogakure like it was second nature. From muscle memory Izumi nosedives without fear between the rugged peaks of her village, soaring past buildings and ascending higher without so much as a flinch. Within a matter of moments Izumi reaches the titanic office of the Raikage, a towering building crafted of glass and ringed by yellow with a sea of trees as the summit. Without pause the young girl makes her towards the office, walking up the vertical building as easily as flat ground. As everything begins blurring around her, Izumi watches a gap form in the glass, swinging wide open without warning. She slips inside and lands cleanly on her feet. The Raikage’s office was a round, dull colored domicile with little more than some couches and a lone punching bag occupying it. Its walls were nonexistent, replaced instead by clear windows like all other buildings in the village. Awaiting Izumi, a sun-soaked young woman with gray hair and a dark green outfit plain and without blemishes. In her hand, a small scroll, its contents sealed tight. Izumi nods at Mabui, the Raikage’s assistance, regarding her with mutual respect. She pulls off her porcelain mask, letting her skin breathe. No words pass between the two as Mabui hands the scroll to the visitor. Izumi wastes no time in unraveling the parchment in her hand, knowing how time sensitive the information could be. Without pause Izumi begins scanning the scroll blankly. A moment goes by as the knowledge sinks in, but then the girl quickly whips the scroll back together and folds it up once again. A moment of understanding washed over the two. Izumi is unaware whether or not Mabui knew that the Raikage’s message was, but thanked her in kind anyway. “Thank you,” Izumi said quietly, returning the scroll back to the woman. Mabui stows away the document but her mind is occupied elsewhere. “Do you know your orders?” she asks. “Yes,” replies Izumi curtly, fastening her mask back over her face. “I am to head west, to the border. The Village Hidden in the Frost. Political unrest between villagers and mercenaries has left the lord wary in such precarious times. There I am to meet one of our allies, someone said to have very close ties with me. I’ll receive further orders after that.” Mabui suspected Izumi of leaving out details, but let it slide. “Well, all right then. Your belongings have been gathered, you can pick them up outside your house after you leave.” In the throes of the black ops, it wasn’t unheard of to have your personal effects rifled through by your peers. You never really had any privacy. “Right,” Izumi responded, quickly putting the conversation to a halt. “Thanks again. I’ll be seeing you,” she adds before backing away. She turns and leaps out the window effortlessly, Mabui closing the window behind her quietly. Izumi soars through the hot air with her arms spread, the wind cutting her ears. Weightless, she plunges past pillars of stone and descends to the bottom of her village. Izumi lands with an unceremonious thud before she takes off running. Izumi’s house lies to the west, the direction of her destination. She lives alone, a decision she’d involuntarily made long ago when she joined the ranks of the ANBU. Izumi sprints forward at great speed snaking her way through the heart of the village trailing dust behind her. It’s not long before the girl reaches the straggly outskirts of Kumogakure and veers off in the direction of her small home. Unswept plains stretch out before her, a golden sea of sand that surrounds the Village Hidden in the Clouds. Towering mountains dwindle down into near nothingness that give way to endless deserts as far as the eye can see. Few buildings exist this far outside of the village, save for the occasional outpost or hermitic citizen, and, of course, Izumi. Nestled in between a small rocky outcropping rests the quiet home of a young girl. Square in shape with a cloudy gray tiered roof and dull wooden exterior, the modest building blends in faintly with its surroundings, unseen by most. The peaceful, unsuspecting home is the perfect match for Izumi, a place she’d inherited long ago from distant members of her family. It was innocuous and out of the way, a trait she tried adhering to herself the best she could. As she drew closer, Izumi could see something occupying her small front porch; a large backpack sitting in a heap on the ground, a sheathed sword lying quietly against her door. It was eerie knowing her house had been entered, her items been touched. It wasn’t something she’d ever get fully used to. Grinding to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust, Izumi jogs up the few steps leading to her house and steps inside. Izumi’s home was a modest one, even by shinobi standards. She had long since abandoned the idea of “personal items” since joining the black ops, leaving her house barren. Her walls were a pale green, her floor white squared off by black lines. In the middle of the single room was a low resting polished wood table surrounded by equally dark cushions. On one side of the house, a sink underneath a clear window accompanied by cupboards. On the other, a sleeping mat nestled on the floor between a corner and a bureau full of clothes and, above that, hooks to holster a sword on the wall. And… Well, that was about it. Aside from a couple spare sets of shoes at the foot of her dresser and a meager supply of food, Izumi’s house was near empty. Waltzing up to the counter on the far side of the room, Izumi removes her mask, kneels, and begins rummaging through a cabinet. She picks and unwraps an eel-filled rice ball, a mighty weakness of hers. Quickly shutting the cupboard door behind her and turning to change into a fresh pair of sandals, inhaling her snack, Izumi returns to the kitchen side of her house. She flexes for a moment as she regains her stamina, stretching the stiffness out of her shoes. Back inside her cabinet Izumi fishes out an old fashioned wooden bento box, sliding the cover open and stuffing its small compartments with prepared foods – tofu, balls of rice, anything she could find. Satisfied, Izumi slides the lid back onto the box, covers her face with her mask once more, and darts out the door. Outside the young girl is greeted by a blast of hot air, stealing her breath away. Izumi finds her belongings on the porch and kneels to unzip the biggest pocket of her backpack, shoving her bento box inside and quickly closing the bag. She then slides her sword behind her shoulders and hoists her backpack fastening it on top. Ready to leave Izumi gives one last look to the village before she takes off, heading west towards the border.